


i'll send a storm

by viscrael



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, birthday fic, post-reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll send a storm

**Author's Note:**

> ITS TECHNICALLY STILL SHIONS BIRTHDAY RIGHT

One night, when it’s in-between fall and spring, Nezumi wakes to the sound of his name being called over and over. Confused and bleary, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, coming to consciousness.

“Shion, what…?” He sits up in their shared bed, the blankets kicked halfway off the two of them, and tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes to find his hand clasped tightly in the other’s. He tugs a little, but Shion doesn’t relent.

Shion doesn’t meet his eyes for a moment, staring at the comforter, dirty and tattered and warm all the same. “Nezumi…” he says, voice sounding hoarse.

“What’s got you so…” the dark-haired man starts to question, _what’s got you so shaken, what was so bad that it woke you up, why are you holding onto me like your life depends on it, why couldn’t you stop saying my name earlier_ —but Shion shakes his head.

“You’re here,” he says, after he’s taken a deep breath. The grip doesn’t loosen. He falls forward, head leaning on the other’s shoulder. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here, airhead. What would make you think I wouldn’t be?”

The question makes him bit his lip. There is a silence for a moment, and it occurs to Nezumi that, while the man isn’t crying, he looks like he might be about to.

“I thought you had…I woke up and I wasn’t…touching you, so I got scared and thought you had…” He presses his forehead to Nezumi’s shoulder further, and Nezumi feels the flutter of his white eyelashes against his skin as he blinks. “I thought you had…left.”

Nezumi sucks in a breath like he’s preparing for it to be knocked out of him, and he tenses, and he knows that Shion feels the tenseness. And he knows that it’s stupid of him to get upset, _offended_ about a fear like that—it’s his fault, after all. He’s the one who left Shion; he’s the one who was gone for two years without any contact; he’s the one who disappeared not even a day after Shion had gone through the horrors of the Correctional Facility (of losing his best friend, of losing his home); it’s his fault. He chose this, and even when he left, he knew that it would shatter some of the trust they had built.

But it still hurts, to know that he had hurt Shion. It was the best thing he could’ve chosen at the time, but sometimes—sometimes he regrets it, wonders what would’ve happened had he stayed and helped rebuild the city, what would’ve happened had he stayed and been there for Shion. Could they live like they are now? Could they have ever been together in the first place had he not left?

He doesn’t know.

But he knows that his absence did things to Shion. Shion said, that first day after he’d gotten back (in the middle of the night, storm raging, blood dripping down his arm from a scuffle he hadn’t meant to get in, entering through Shion’s window where it had been blown open by a childlike desire to _scream,_ to _destroy—_ like some sort of repeat of six years ago), that being without Nezumi had made him stronger. That it made him more dependent; made him more brave. He had to stick up for himself, because no one was coming to save him this time. He had to tough it out for his mom, for Inukashi, for the rest of the town, because they were letting a sixteen year old boy lead the rebuilding of their city, letting an emotionally unstable teenager lead them to redemption.

_I missed you_ wasn’t the first thing Shion said to him. In fact, it was much later on, that night, when Nezumi’s arm was stitched up and they were falling asleep that Shion started crying, these big, pathetic, crocodile tears, all running down his cheeks like he had been bottling tears up for just this occasion. _I missed you_ , he said, _I missed you_.

Nezumi didn’t like to think that he had cried too, but he maybe, sort of did. _Yeah,_ he said, for lack of anything more romantic to say. _Yeah, Shion. Missed you too._

And now, Shion curls his hand around Nezumi’s, tugs on him, entwines their hands as a physical reminder that he is there and he has not left, and Nezumi ignores the pang of guilt to press a kiss to snow white hair.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Shion nods, but he lifts his head from the pale shoulder and stares him in the eye, completely serious. “You promise?”

“I promise.” He tries to grin, but the situation feels too somber for something like that, and besides—these days, grinswith Shion just end up more genuine smiles. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not ever.”

“Not ever,” he affirms, and this soothes Shion’s tired, worried head. He presses a soft kiss to the other’s lips and lies back down.

“Go to sleep now,” Nezumi says.

“Okay.” He lies down as well, but doesn’t let go of the hand still in his, only entwining them further. He squeezes, once, and Nezumi squeezes back comfortingly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Shion.”

And his breathing becomes steady, evens out, and Nezumi knows that he has fallen back asleep, hopefully not to dreams like the ones he’s been having. He wonder if Shion still thinks about the Correctional Facility, if he still dreams about Safu, if he still wakes in cold sweat with the taste of blood coated to the roof of his mouth. Probably, Nezumi decides. One can’t escape Hell and get off without a few permanent scars.

The only clock they own strikes midnight—Nezumi counts twelvesilently to himself,and he sighs. He shuts his eyes, tries to fall asleep once more, and curls up closer to the man next to him, wrapping his arm around his waist, chest pressed to back.

“Happy birthday, Shion,” he mumbles, laying a kiss on the back of his neck, and does not see the smile on his lover’s face as he falls asleep.


End file.
